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My Dad had a story for just about everything you can think of, especially if it was designed to not tell a little kid the truth about things. It started with my older siblings... When my sister Terri was 4 years old and asked where she came from, my Dad told that she was left on our doorstep by passing Gypsies. My sister Rose was told that Mama found her while out picking wild flowers, and she was laying in a pink blanket under a bramble of wild roses. Hence her name. My brother was found out at the jetties off of Jax Beach under one of the rocks and that he had been left by the MerFolks, and that's why he could swim under water so well. But when it came to me... well, here's how the story goes. My Dad was out in the wild west, riding the rails mending fences with Buffalo Bill and One-eyed-Joe when my Dad heard the most pitiful sound coming from a big rock. He got off his horse to investigate and found this little red faced, red haired baby girl crying and shaking her little fists at him. He thought about it a bit and told his buddies, "Y'all will have to pardon me for a bit while I take this little bundle home to Mama. She's got a black haired gypsy baby girl, and a golden haired rosey baby girl, a blonde haired merboy,but she doesn't have a red haired screaming beauty of a ruby, so I think she'll like this one, since it's the most like herself." Now always believing every word that fell from my Dad's lips, on my first "Show and Tell" day in 1st grade, I stood before the whole class and told "My" story. I was promply sent to the principals office for lying in class. When they called my Mama, she sent my Dad down to deal with the situation he created. I still don't know what was said behind that closed door, but I was returned to class without punishment and I was absolutely certain that the other adults at school got their ears peeled back when my Hero Dad saved the day.
So, does anyone else have "stories" in their family that are told with great relish, but have no real basis for the telling? I really hope I'm not the only one!
My Dad had a story for just about everything you can think of, especially if it was designed to not tell a little kid the truth about things. It started with my older siblings... When my sister Terri was 4 years old and asked where she came from, my Dad told that she was left on our doorstep by passing Gypsies. My sister Rose was told that Mama found her while out picking wild flowers, and she was laying in a pink blanket under a bramble of wild roses. Hence her name. My brother was found out at the jetties off of Jax Beach under one of the rocks and that he had been left by the MerFolks, and that's why he could swim under water so well. But when it came to me... well, here's how the story goes. My Dad was out in the wild west, riding the rails mending fences with Buffalo Bill and One-eyed-Joe when my Dad heard the most pitiful sound coming from a big rock. He got off his horse to investigate and found this little red faced, red haired baby girl crying and shaking her little fists at him. He thought about it a bit and told his buddies, "Y'all will have to pardon me for a bit while I take this little bundle home to Mama. She's got a black haired gypsy baby girl, and a golden haired rosey baby girl, a blonde haired merboy,but she doesn't have a red haired screaming beauty of a ruby, so I think she'll like this one, since it's the most like herself." Now always believing every word that fell from my Dad's lips, on my first "Show and Tell" day in 1st grade, I stood before the whole class and told "My" story. I was promply sent to the principals office for lying in class. When they called my Mama, she sent my Dad down to deal with the situation he created. I still don't know what was said behind that closed door, but I was returned to class without punishment and I was absolutely certain that the other adults at school got their ears peeled back when my Hero Dad saved the day.
So, does anyone else have "stories" in their family that are told with great relish, but have no real basis for the telling? I really hope I'm not the only one!
That's a wonderful story, Ruby! I don't have any show and tell but I like yours!
Dont know if this counts, but when I was in 9th grade, one of my classes the teacher absolutely did NOT allow gum in his class. Of course, me, the defiant one, chewed my gum through a lot of his classes but one day he must have noticed because he asked me to stay after class for a few minutes. So of course after wards, I stayed. He called me to his desk and asked me if I was chewing gum during class. I didnt want to say yes or no but I told him I chew it all the time but...then changed the subject to anything else I can think of. He had one of those square cube things on his desk that had pictures of him and his dog so I started talking about the pictures of his dog, how cute he was, etc. While I was talking, stupid me, my gum fell out of my mouth onto his desk!!! Needless to say, I didnt do it anymore.
That's a wonderful story, Ruby! I don't have any show and tell but I like yours! Thanks Dallas Kitty! I've been told often by various family members that I have my Dad's gift for gab. I guess it must be true because ever since I came to CD, I can't seem to shut up.
Dont know if this counts, but when I was in 9th grade, one of my classes the teacher absolutely did NOT allow gum in his class. Of course, me, the defiant one, chewed my gum through a lot of his classes but one day he must have noticed because he asked me to stay after class for a few minutes. So of course after wards, I stayed. He called me to his desk and asked me if I was chewing gum during class. I didnt want to say yes or no but I told him I chew it all the time but...then changed the subject to anything else I can think of. He had one of those square cube things on his desk that had pictures of him and his dog so I started talking about the pictures of his dog, how cute he was, etc. While I was talking, stupid me, my gum fell out of my mouth onto his desk!!! Needless to say, I didnt do it anymore.
I love your story Wisconson Woman! I was another one who chewed gum in class. I wasn't a "bad kid" exactly, I just didn't believe that following all the rules was necessary. And I was totally convinced that they just made them up to give us a hard time. They didn't appear to have any real value, as I saw it, and to me, that made them fair game.
I know my parents dispared of me ever turning out right, always in the deans office for one thing or another. Course, what they didn't understand was that getting in trouble on friday mornings meant "cafeteria duty" after the lunch hour, and that meant getting to eat all the leftover pizza they made from scratch back then. I was thin, pale and tall and the lunch ladies were determined to fatten me up. So yeah, trouble on fridays was a primary goal. And believe me, I wasn't the only one in on that sweet deal!
When I was five I came home from school and told my father that we were going to have Show and Tell the next day. He told me that I should get up in front of the class and tell everybody that "My mommy is 18 and my daddy is 72." Dad thought that was a great joke. So I did as I was told, having no idea what I was saying. For years afterward Dad would tell the story with great relish, adding, "You ought to have seen the look on the face of her teacher when we showed up on Parents' Night!" (They were actually 37 and 39 at the time.)
We didn't do anything like 'Show and Tell' at my school. The only thing near it is a story I told my son that confused him for years. It was so cruelly funny......
There is a photo of me taken with a tiny monkey in a little outfit when I was 17.
One day, my eldest son and I were looking through a photo album when he was about 3 years old.
We came across the monkey photo. Scott said "who's that?" It just came to me in seconds. "That's you when you were a little monkey." He looked puzzled, so I made up a tale about going to a circus, they didn't want the little monkey, so his mum and I took him home.
"What happened to my fur and tail?" he asked, with a worried expression. I said, "shaved off the fur, took you to the vet, got the tail chopped off. Brought you up as a real boy, although, if we got a barrel organ, and brought you a little red hat, I think you would just naturally know how to dance, and take off your hat to entertain people."
He puzzled over this. He was always smart. But he wasn't really sure......
I'm giving you the official "Cream Cake" award in honor of my Dad, who loved Cream Cakes and would have been seriously impressed by that tale you spun for your son!!!
My Dad had a story for just about everything you can think of, especially if it was designed to not tell a little kid the truth about things. It started with my older siblings... When my sister Terri was 4 years old and asked where she came from, my Dad told that she was left on our doorstep by passing Gypsies. My sister Rose was told that Mama found her while out picking wild flowers, and she was laying in a pink blanket under a bramble of wild roses. Hence her name. My brother was found out at the jetties off of Jax Beach under one of the rocks and that he had been left by the MerFolks, and that's why he could swim under water so well. But when it came to me... well, here's how the story goes. My Dad was out in the wild west, riding the rails mending fences with Buffalo Bill and One-eyed-Joe when my Dad heard the most pitiful sound coming from a big rock. He got off his horse to investigate and found this little red faced, red haired baby girl crying and shaking her little fists at him. He thought about it a bit and told his buddies, "Y'all will have to pardon me for a bit while I take this little bundle home to Mama. She's got a black haired gypsy baby girl, and a golden haired rosey baby girl, a blonde haired merboy,but she doesn't have a red haired screaming beauty of a ruby, so I think she'll like this one, since it's the most like herself." Now always believing every word that fell from my Dad's lips, on my first "Show and Tell" day in 1st grade, I stood before the whole class and told "My" story. I was promply sent to the principals office for lying in class. When they called my Mama, she sent my Dad down to deal with the situation he created. I still don't know what was said behind that closed door, but I was returned to class without punishment and I was absolutely certain that the other adults at school got their ears peeled back when my Hero Dad saved the day.
So, does anyone else have "stories" in their family that are told with great relish, but have no real basis for the telling? I really hope I'm not the only one!
When I was real little, my dad loved to tease my brother and I. I had this blanket I just loved. He told me that he was a garbage man and one day he lifted the lid to a can and found me there and he really didn't want to bring me home, but they were poor and they needed the blanket, but I wouldn't let go of it. Jump ahead a few years to kindergarten and I bring the blanket to school and tell my story. My teacher was horrified and promptly called my parents. My mother really reamed my dad out for that one.
Sounds like your Dad and mine shared similar qualities! I bet your Dad had the gift of gab too. Thanks for sharing your "Show and Tell" with us. I always love hearing stories from folks, especially the ones from when they were little or young. I do love nostalgia, magic monents that helped you become the person you are today. I think I can credit my Dad for my creativity, imaginationa and such. His stories made me laugh, cry, cheer for the hero or underdog, but more than anything, it gave me a loving tie to him that has lasted all my life, even though he passed away when I was 20. I guess that's why I love talking about him so much. When I share the things he said or did, he just feels a little bit closer.
So again, thank you so much for sharing. It means something special to me.
Many moons ago and young and dumb and getting married too a gal that was Italian and whole family came threw Ellis Island and was from Sicily,very devote Catholic. The day we announced are wedding in front of the whole congregation,I guess it was tradition.. the Father asked my too be wife's little brother ( he was the one that held the bible on the head as the father read the scriptures during mass ) age 7-8 what do you think about this? He said he was so happy too be a uncle.................. Dead silence....
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I don't have any show and tell but I like yours!
And I was totally convinced that they just made them up to give us a hard time. 
They didn't appear to have any real value, as I saw it, and to me, that made them fair game.
all the leftover pizza they made from scratch back then. I was thin, pale and tall and the lunch ladies were determined to fatten me up. So yeah, trouble on fridays was a primary goal. And believe me, I wasn't the only one in on that sweet deal! 
Dave!!! I'm giving you....
